


Again

by borrowedsatellight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Based off Hoechlin's request for a Sterek scene at AlphaCon, Derek as a punching bag, Gen, Season 3A Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedsatellight/pseuds/borrowedsatellight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles twists this time, his fist connects with Derek’s jaw. He bounces back a little, fist opening as he slowly drops it to his side.</p><p>“Derek, I’m....”</p><p>Derek just shakes his head, taking a step forward until he’s in Stiles’s space. “Again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written because of this: lloydoholic.tumblr.com/post/88191302414/

Stiles doesn’t speak.

After Jennifer’s admission, she took off for the hospital. Derek and Scott’s eyes had met for a breath of a second before Derek’s gaze had shifted to Stiles.

Partly because the pity in Scott’s eyes was something Derek couldn’t take, partly because Stiles looks like he’s falling apart.

“Stiles,” Scott says, hand coming up to rest over his shoulder. “We’re gonna find him. We’re gonna find your dad, okay? He’ll be fine.”

Stiles’s hands are shaking when he curls them into fists, breath catching in his chest on an inhale and shuddering out of him on an exhale. “He won’t be at the hospital. She wouldn’t lead him to us, he’ll - he’s somewhere else. He could be _anywhere_ else. How the hell are we supposed to find him, Scott? What am I supposed to _do_ , I don’t...”

“Take a breath,” Derek says.

Stiles’s jaw clicks shut. When his eyes meet Derek’s, there’s a darkness there - something angry and desperate and raw that Derek recognizes all too well. “My dad’s missing.”

“And you need to focus on finding him,” Derek says, taking a step closer to them both. “You can’t do that if...”

“If what?” Stiles counters, taking a few steps of his own. “If I’m worried? If I’m freaking out because my english teacher turned psycho creature _took_ my dad and I don’t know where the hell to even _start_ trying to find him?”

When Stiles finishes, he’s less than a foot away from Derek. He’s breathing hard enough that his shoulders move with the rhythm of it, eyes glassy and skin blotched shades of pink and red and white. Keeping his voice level, Derek asks, “Did you drive your jeep here?”

Stiles swallows before he answers, eyes falling to the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, I - yeah.”

“Gimme your keys.”

There’s a moment where Stiles’s mouth opens like he’s going to reply, probably argue, but he doesn’t. Just shakes his head, looks up at Derek, and pulls his keys from his pocket to hand them over.

Derek steps around Stiles and hands the keys to Scott. “We’ll meet you at the hospital, okay?”

“Okay,” Scott says, nodding. He looks past Derek to Stiles for a few seconds before turning and heading for the door.

When Derek turns around again, Stiles has fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. “We’re gonna find him,” Derek promises.

“You don’t know that,” Stiles counters, but he doesn’t sound pissed anymore.

He sounds defeated. And that scares Derek more than anything else.

~*~

They’re halfway to the hospital before Derek speaks again.

“You can’t give up. You aren’t allowed to do that.”

Stiles looks up from his lap for the first time since getting in the car. “What are you talking about? I’m not giving up.”

“No?” Derek asks, head turning towards him. “You sure about that?”

“I’m sorry, am I not upbeat enough for you? Should I smile and just repeat the same mindless horsecrap over and over to myself to make you feel better? Huh? Would you like it if I just kept telling myself he was fine and we’d find him?”

“It’d be better than telling yourself he’s already dead.”

Derek can hear the way Stiles’s pulse starts to rise. He knows the quickened rhythm of it well - it’s anger, and Derek’s grateful. Anger is something that Derek’s familiar with.

Anger is something he can use.

“You know what, Derek. How about you drive and I’ll continue to sit here uselessly? You know, since I’m apparently not even capable of driving myself anywhere.”

“I’m just trying to....”

“If you say you’re trying to help me, I swear to Christ I’m going to knee you in the balls.”

The tires squeal against the pavement when Derek brings the SUV to a stop on the shoulder. Stiles flails for a few seconds before he looks at Derek, sitting forward as he yells, “Why the hell did you stop? We need to get to the hospital.”

“Get out.”

Stiles scoffs, shaking his head until Derek unbuckles his seatbelt and opens his door. “Derek, seriously, what the _hell?”_

Derek makes his way around the front of the car and opens Stiles’s door, gesturing to the pavement. “Get out,” he says again. “The sooner you get out, the sooner we can do this and the sooner we’ll get to the hospital.”

Stiles looks far from convinced, but he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out. Arms spread wide, he asks, “What’re we doing here, Derek?”

Derek waves a hand toward himself. “Hit me.”

Stiles actually laughs - there’s an edge to it, though, one that’s manic and sharp. His eyes are red-rimmed, still glassy with tears, and he’s glaring at Derek with the defiance and strength of someone who’s well past their breaking point. “This is ridiculous. If you don’t get back in the car, I’m going to drive myself there and leave your ass out here, Hale.”

Silence falls between them. It lasts long enough that Stiles starts to stalk around to the driver’s side, shaking his head and muttering something that’s too muddled for Derek’s hearing to pick up.

Derek grabs his wrist and yanks him back.

“Dude, let _go_ of me!” Stiles spits, whirling and twisting his wrist from Derek’s grasp. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

Stiles turns to go again. Derek curls a hand over his shoulder and pulls.

When Stiles twists this time, his fist connects with Derek’s jaw. He bounces back a little, fist opening as he slowly drops it to his side.

“Derek, I’m....”

Derek just shakes his head, taking a step forward until he’s in Stiles’s space. “Again.”

It takes a few seconds before Stiles seems to realize that Derek’s entirely serious and that he won’t retaliate. When that clicks, something changes - Stiles’s pulse slows, his eyes darken, and the next punch to Derek’s shoulder is one that has the older man wincing as he steps backward. It doesn’t hurt - the physical blow, anyway, but the ache that Derek can sense behind it is what causes something to twist in his gut.

He doesn’t have to push Stiles this time. The next punch comes just as swiftly, knuckles catching against Derek’s jawline. His other fist hits Derek somewhere above his hip, and Derek forces himself to keep breathing through each punch.

“You’re such an idiot,” Stiles hisses. “You’re so _stupid_ , Derek. Letting her use you like that. Haven’t you learned a damn thing?”

Derek doesn’t answer. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that this isn’t about him - Stiles can spew all the vitriol he wants, he can deliver as many punches as he needs to. This is about moving past that, about moving past the rage he feels to try and get to a place where he’s calm enough to be _smart_.

With the situation he’s in, the last thing he needs is to make a rash decision out of anger and desperation. A decision that could cost him his life or lead to his father’s death. Derek knows those types of decisions all too well and he doesn’t want Stiles to fall into the same trap.

After all, Derek’s comfortable here. There’s a sense of familiarity in the words Stiles uses and in the fire behind his bloodshot eyes. Everything Stiles says and does is only an echo of Derek’s mind on a daily basis.

Derek doesn’t know how long it takes, but there’s a point where Stiles’s punches become less forceful. The scowl on his lips turns to something softer, sadder, and his final punch becomes an open splay of his hand against Derek’s chest. Their eyes meet when Stiles rasps, “Why’d you let me do that?”

“We’re gonna find him,” is Derek’s only reply.

Stiles’s features smooth out a bit, fingers trembling against Derek’s chest. The anger leaves his eyes and the tension leaves his shoulders, just enough that Derek knows Stiles’s mind is clearing. There’s an acceptance there, Derek thinks - an understanding that while this isn’t a situation that Stiles has control over, it’s a situation he can change.

And his thoughts are focused enough now to achieve that.

“We’re gonna find him,” Derek says again, both hands gripping Stiles’s shoulders tight.

Stiles nods, head only moving once or twice before he’s nodding fervently. “We’ll find him,” he echoes. “We’ll find my dad. I’m - you aren’t hurt, right? I...”

“I’m fine,” Derek assures him, squeezing Stiles’s shoulders before he lets go. “Get back in. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

It isn’t until Stiles is inside the SUV again that Derek moves, walking around the back of the vehicle as he tries to catch his breath. Tries to keep himself from falling apart because that’s the last thing they need. This isn’t _about_ him, this is -

_‘You’re so **stupid** , Derek. Letting her use you like that. Haven’t you learned a damn thing?’_

It’s all Derek’s told himself since Jennifer revealed her true intentions.

And he has no idea why it hurts so much more hearing it from someone else.


End file.
